


Caught and Collared

by Kertneyk



Category: Mafiatale - Fandom, Mobtale, Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), BCLBT Meets Mafiatale, Bara Sans, Bastard Gaster, Collars, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), F/F, F/M, I am attempting a gritty plot, I will attempt the lingo, M/M, Mobtale - Freeform, Parent W. D. Gaster, Period-Typical Sexism, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Were-Creatures, dark story, don't want to give too much away, mafiatale, reader is female, smut???, will add tags as the story goes, will have some fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28680714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kertneyk/pseuds/Kertneyk
Summary: You're a Were-leopard looking for your sister in a city filled with crime and monsters.  Your existence and hers must remain a secret otherwise you'll pay with more than your life.  You'll pay with your freedom.  Were-creatures of all types are bought and traded to the head honchos of the city as pets and protection.  With collars that keep them from shifting and escaping, they are a practical statement piece to any mobster roll call.Don Gaster is the leader of one of the three rival families in Ebbot, and when his sons bring home a little lost kitten; well he's not going to look a gift cat in the mouth.  Were-creatures are very useful after all.
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Asgore Dreemurr/Toriel, Sans (Mafiatale) / Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Caught and Collared

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Readers! It is I, KertneyK with another Were-cat story!   
> This one is darker than my other fic, Big Cats Like Bones Too.   
> Sans is darker, bigger and meaner. Papyrus gets the edgy make-over missing from my other fic. Gaster is alive and an asshole.   
> Reader gets some cool upgraded traits. And everything is set in a 1920's mafia-run world.   
> Sounds like fun!!

The plan was easy. Find the guy, bat your eyelashes, let him take ya to a nice dark alley, and then beat the ever loving tar out of him. When he was a pile of broken bones and bruised tissue, you were to lean down into his ear and tell him that his wife and her new lover send their regards and would appreciate it if he signed the divorce papers.

It wasn’t normally the type of job you took, but the dame’s tale tugged at your heartstrings. Husband was a real piece of work, beat the girl, bred her like an animal and then once he got tired of the runts running around, he up and left. Choosing to spend his time and money at the seedy speakeasies in the area instead of at home.

So you traded in your pantsuit for a skirt. You found the guy, an easy feat with your powerful sense of smell and natural hunting instincts, your eyelashes never batted better, the alley you were in was a perfect blend of darkness and despair, you just needed to get him farther in. Past the next bend, preferably.

“Oh sweetheart, yer a hot little piece of calico aint’cha? Can’t believe a sweet thing like you is gonna let me take ya in a dark alley like this. Dame like you outta have a little more respect for yourself.” His breath is liquor soaked and he smelt stale and greasy. The suit he had on was cheap, scuffed shoes and tattered hems. The hat was sad and crumpled, like him. What was even sadder was that he thought he looked good.

He thought he was smooth.

Some girls really pinpointed him as an easy mark.

“Please stop. I’m not letting you take me anywhere.” You let a little fear drip into your words and you retreat farther into the darkness. He grabs at you and you let him pull you close, pretending to resist. You say pretend because you could easily snap the bender in half.

“Aw kitten, you’re breaking my heart. I just want a little taste of what ya were showin in there.” He grabs onto the back of your blouse. You try to step away again, but his grip is too tight and it starts tearing the fabric.

That’s not what you wanted to happen. You let tears come to your eyes, and force your lip to wobble. Not difficult for you as your nose burned harshly with the smell of his body so near you.

“Please, I just want to go home.” Your voice is shaky and scared.

“Oh yes, keep begging like that. It’s gonna make this so much better.” He roughly grabs the back of your head, his hand twisting up into your hair, as he tries to pull you forward into a kiss.

You were getting pretty sick of playing meek.

You were about to pick him up and haul him to the end of the alley yourself, when you heard the distinct sound of heavy footsteps making their way towards you both.

“I think the lady made herself clear. She don’t want anything ta do with ya.” A low, gravely baritone fills the alley. Instantly, the shivers you were pretending to have become real as the other reason you wanted to get to the other end of the alley steps into your view. Sans the Skeleton Gaster was coming to your rescue. You have never seen him before, but any Were in the state knew who he was. Eldest son of the mob boss Don W.D. Gaster, head hit-man and muscle of one of the three large syndicates in the city. Well this job just went to hell in a hand basket.

“Who the fuck asked you? Piss off ya shitty monster, me and the lady are having ourselves a tender moment.” Oof, this oaf was doomed. Better to cut your losses and keep playing up the damsel angle. Whatever you did, you could not let this man find out what you were.

“We are not! Please, I don’t know who you are but I just want to go home.”

“Hear that? Dame says yer not an item, and if yer not an item then yer in the wrong damn place ta be pullin moves like that.”

“Oh yeah? Shoulda taken her home first? Who the hell cares if I take some broad in an alley for a good fuck?”

“As long as it wazz’t in my territory, I wouldnta cared too much. But yer in Don Gastor’s part’a town, and we don’t take kindly ta what ya planned on doin to the dame.” Finally logic started filtering back into the man’s head, just as the blood came rushing out. Whiter than your skeletal rescuer, the man pushed you away from him like you had gone up in flames. Suddenly free, your balance was off and you staggered a couple of feet. Before you could regain it, you bumped into the bony chest of the mobster. An arm snaked around your shoulder, the contact light but firm. You look up at him with big dewy eyes and let out a small whimper. He looks you in the face, then slowly lets his eye lights roam your body up and down. When they meet yours again you have a small blush formed and he is smiling.

“Ya might wanna look away dollface, this is bout ta get ugly.” You nod and turn yourself away, looking out back onto the street you came from.

“Please, please. I didn’t know I was still in your territory. It’s just a broad, not worth getting worked up for. Wasn’t gonna hurt her, she just was giving me the eyes, ya understand? Ya saw her just now! She’s nothin but a cock tease.”

“What kinda pathetic piece a work goes’n blames a beautiful woman like that for yer less than gentlemanly actions? As far as I’m concerned, a gal like that has every right ta walk anywhere she’d like in this territory without tha likes a shits like ya makin it rough on ‘er.” Sans looks back at your form, turned away but listening intently. He half expected you to run the moment you had been free. But apparently you were smarter than you seemed, which was good. He really didn’t want to have to chase you down after all this. Not that he would have minded putting in the effort. He wasn’t lying, you were a looker. A little on the short side, but your dress showed a figure that could stop traffic, and your eyes danced in the dim light of the alleyway. And your smell… well, he couldn’t really blame the guy for being interested. He was interested. But there was a proper way to court a lady. “But that’s just my opinion. Yer real problem is that ya decided ta go lippin me and not knowing just where ya were doin yer shady business. Fer that, yer gonna have yerself a real bad time.”

The sounds of bone meeting flesh filled the alley, but never reached beyond. The stillness of the night absorbing the sounds and whisking them away from innocent ears. Your mark pleaded and begged for mercy but Sans was relentless. Your curiosity almost got the better of you and tempted you to turn and watch the spectacle. But two things held you back; one sweet doe-eyed damsels did not watch mobsters beat the skin off of people. Two, and probably more importantly, your inner cat had a real problem with sharing your prey and you were afraid if you turned around you would want to pick a fight over the asshole. And though you were sure you could take the skeleton in a one on one fight, you weren’t too keen on testing that theory. Especially when it wouldn’t be your life on the line, but your freedom. Weres were a real special commodity, bought and sold like fucking pets for the powerful people of the city. You shudder, suddenly afraid. You purposefully avoided monsters and mobsters. You had no desire to start wearing a collar.

“Alright ya piece of human garbage,” Sans says as he lifts the gasping, trembling man up over his shoulder and walks the twenty feet to the boarder of the territories. Your ears twitch as you hear the grinding of bones as they walk away. Sans must have broken some ribs. “if I ever catch ya back on this side of the line, yer gonna wished I’da killed ya this time.” The man is thrown and in an instant, the monster is by your side. You’d heard the skeleton had magic that let him vanish and reappear wherever he wanted, but it was definitely unnerving to be witness to it. You flinch, though it was possible for you to have controlled your recoil, you let it flow. You were a weak human female, nothing odd or out of the ordinary for you. Play the victim, stroke his ego, and then go back to the broken man and get his signature. Maybe you could still salvage tonight?

“There, there sweetheart. It’s just me. That guy won’t be botherin ya again anytime soon ya hear?” You nearly laughed at him. For someone so large and dangerous to describe himself as ‘just me’ was hilarious. But that would be disrespectful. You grip your arm nervously and turn to the skeleton, finally getting a good look at him. Skeleton hands and skull were the only bones you could see. He had a rounded skull, empty nose socket and eye sockets filled only with small red eye lights as pupils. He had a large crack running along the back of his head, and a few small ones across his cheek bones. Large, sharp teeth fixed into a smug grin smiled down at you, and you noticed the gleam of a golden fang. He practically towered over you, seven foot something to your meager five. And he was broad, at least twice your general width.

Where Mr. Creepo had been dressed in a cheap and rumbled two piece, Sans was dudded up in a tailored three piece, expertly cut to fit him. The silk of his vest was in a lovely blood red, the shirt underneath a dark shimmery black. His suit coat and pants were pin stripped, and showed his thick figure. His shoes gleamed, freshly polished; and you noticed that the buttons and cuff links of his outfit were little metal crossbones. These were his business clothes, and his business looked good. He looked good. If you weren’t able to change yourself in a giant leopard on command, perhaps you would not be able to feel attracted to a monster so soon. But you could, and that changed the way a girl looked at people.

You bite your lip, for once not feigning nervousness as he assessed you much the same way.

“Are you sure? He was so adamant, I couldn’t shake him for nothing.”

“Yeah dollface, look at me. Ya really think someone is gonna try a second round against a guy like me?”

“You are rather impressive.” You admit shyly, as you look him up and down a second time. He seems to puff out his chest and preen a little under your assessment. You notice that he sports a small crack on his right hand. It looked fresh. You reach for it and bring it up to your face for closer inspection.

“Oh gosh! You got hurt defending my honor! I am so sorry Mr.-”

“The name’s Sans dollface, and you aint gotta worry about that little mark on my hand.” His hand, so close to your face from the inspection, is removed from your grip and moves to your chin. He grabs it lightly and tips your face up so you are meeting his eyes. “But ya mind tellin me whatta sweet lil’ doll like ya is doin way out here this time’a night?”

 _Riiiight._ You kind of needed a reason to be out this late at night in mobster territory. And it couldn’t be an outright lie, monsters were funny in that they could typically feel when people lied.

“I- I was looking for someone.” _The guy you just pummeled into next week._

“Oh yah? No one else coulda helped ya with this, escorted ya around ta keep ya safe?” You shake your head.

“No husband or beau ta keep ya outta trouble?” His words are soft and vibrate through you. Like a purr that could echo your own. You swallow, your mouth suddenly a little dry.

“No. Engaged once, but....” He hums at you, and his hand travels from your chin to your cheek. The spot tingles with his magic.

“Whata palooka. Ida never leave a doll like ya at the alter.”

“Betcha say that to all the gals you rescue in dark alleys.” You wink at him and step away from his hand. _Damn he was smooth_. And your big cat liked him. She liked her mates tall, strong and dripping with danger. He lets you go, though his eyes follow you intently.

“Can’t say I’m in the business of savin people dollface.”

“Oh? Coulda fooled me, got the white-knight shtick down pat.” He laughs slowly, and reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a cigar. He lights it and takes a long drag. Red smoke fills the alley and makes your nose burn.

“So where’s home doll? Let yer white-knight escort the princess back to ‘er tower.”

“Yeah… I don’t think that is a great idea.” He chuckles, low and slow, his gravel-filled voice sending shivers down your spine. Definitely a bad idea.

“’fraid ya might wake up to find’a monster under yer bed dollface?” _More like in my bed._

“Something like that.” He grins as though he was privy to the thoughts in your head.

“Well I think ya owe me somethin sweetheart. White-knights gotta have encouragements if they’re gonna keep savin pretty ladies.” He regains the ground he gave you and cups your cheek with his bony hand, tilting your face up. When you don’t fight him, he brings his face to yours and presses his teeth against your lips. The kiss lasts only a moment, but it leaves you breathless, little tingles of his magic sputtering across your lips.

“There, that’s more like it. I can see why them hero-types do it now.” You lightly put your hand on his chest, the fabric of his shirt smooth under your touch. You can feel his ribs through the material as you softly push him away from you. He goes.

“Well, I’m glad I could help enlighten you. Maybe you’ll try to save more silly girls now.”

“Just might hafta.” He takes another drag from his cigar, the red smoke billowing out up and over the both of you. It is interesting to watch, as it curled and moved in patterns unlike regular smoke. You both are silent for a moment. You had hoped that he would leave you here, but it seemed that he was not budging. Oh well, not like the guy with the broken ribs would be difficult to chase down if you had to double back.

“Ya sure ya don’t want me ta walk ya home?” Sans asks, interrupting your thoughts.

“Ye-yeah. I’m sure I’ll be fine. What are the chances of getting assaulted twice in one night?” You shrug, still playing pretend.

“Ya could always come home with me, yer odds would be real good then.” He smiles wickedly at you. Yeah, no way buddy. The last place you wanted to be was in Gaster headquarters.

“I get the feeling your intentions towards me are less than gentlemanly.” He takes a step towards you, but this time you take one back. A kiss was all this guy was getting from you.

Sans frowns for a moment, but eventually the smile comes back. He wasn’t going to force a pretty gal like you into something you weren’t ready for. He’d see you again, he’d make sure of it.

“Ya caught me dollface. I want ya.” He growls the words out in a low, sinful whisper. “But lemme give ya my card. Ya get yerself in trouble again, or decide ya’d like more than a kiss, ya give me a call.” He hands the card out to you and you take it.

“Thanks Mr. Sans.”

“Just Sans, doll. And I’ll be expectin that call.” He winks at you and finishes his cigar, tossing it to the side of the alley. Then he’s gone. Only the smoke of the cigar and the smell of his magic remaining. You take a large, steadying breath as you lean against the wall of the alley. Holy Hopscotch! You just met and survived a meeting with Sans the Skeleton! Your knees wobble a little as the courage you held tight to yourself during the encounter escapes. Your hand goes to your neck, imagining the weight of a collar around your throat and you panic a little. If he would have had a detector on him…. no. It wouldn’t do to think that way. You force the negative thoughts from your head. He didn’t have a detector. He was a perfect, albeit flirty and somewhat forceful, gentleman.

Something the guy around the corner was not. You take one last breath and push yourself from the wall. Might as well see what happened to the guy. You walk your way to the end of the alley and find him easily. His face was a horrid mix of bruises and cuts. More importantly, however, he was dead. His mouth hung open, his eyes were glazed over, and he had blood and drool trickling down his chin. If you were to guess, he died from the broken ribs. They must have punctured a lung when Sans threw the man. Not quite the ending your clients were expecting, but hey. Whatever worked.

You felt the card in your hand, it was a heavy, thick card stock with a lovely smooth finish. Fancy, for a mobster. You placed it carefully into the pocket of your purse. You would have to call the guy and thank him again. You make your way out of the alley and towards your little studio apartment on the other side of town, not noticing the red eye lights watching your movements from the roof of the building across the street from you.

**Author's Note:**

> Whooo! First chapter and we got a kiss?!? And a creepy stalking scene?!?! Already off to a roaring start!   
> Get it, roaring start. Like roaring twenties? *Nailed It!*  
> What? Just because I am trying to write a grittier tale, doesn't mean I have changed my dorky tune! If I keep this story up, please be prepared for long, rambling and silly beginning and end notes. I haven't been told they suck yet, and I enjoy them so. 
> 
> As always, I live for comments and feedback of all sorts! Tell me anything! If this sucks and I should burn it, if it is awesome and you love it, if I should be committed for attempting another fic when I am barely treading water with my main. Go ahead and let me know :D (especially tell me if you hate the lingo I attempted. I'm trying!)
> 
> By and By: I won't have a regular update schedule for this fic. My main love is BCLBT and I am only allowing myself to work on this one in the odd moments that I am caught up with my posts. If that changes I will let you know.  
> See you next time!


End file.
